Me:Yes!
Darius:How does he taste?
Me (moaning):Succulent.
Darius:Release me. I wish to partake before his demise.
Me (gulping):Wait your turn.
Sir Cyril’s arms loosen from around my waist and slip to the bed. His heart is slowing, a dull thud as it struggles to move what blood he has left around his body. I lick the seeping puncture wounds on his neck and draw back, staring at his handsome face as ruby drops fall from my lips and run down his smooth chest. His beautiful eyes are closed, his jaw slack, and his skin has a grey hue. He is closeto death, of that I am certain. One good suck, and it will send him trotting up to the Pearly Gates. (Of course he is going to heaven. He is pure and blameless, unlike I!) But something in me hesitates. What a pity, and what a waste of a good man.
I stroke his cheek and mutter, ‘You were my best meal of the century. I will never forget you.’
Sir Cyril’s eyes flutter, and he gurgles something incomprehensible to the human ear. But I have vampire hearing.
‘Please, dear lady. Do not let me die.’
Something snaps in me; and I hurl myself at Darius, yank the dagger from his chest, and slice open my wrist. I thrust it at Sir Cyril’s lips, forcing the spurting wound between them.
Drink! Drink! Drink!
He sucks weakly.
More! More! More!
His mouth latches on, and he feeds more forcefully. Guzzling my blood now. The grey tinge disappears from his skin; one hand grips my wrist, pressing it firmly against his mouth. I smile in relief and brush his hair off his sweating forehead as he suckles like a babe.
What in seven hells are you doing, Hester?
I glance over to see Darius scowling, the wound in his chest already knitting together. Oh no!
I must do this. Do not stop me.I cower over the knight protectively.
He stabbed me with a dagger, and you reward him with eternal life?Darius bares his fangs and hisses, his expression incredulous.
I lift my chin stubbornly.I cannot explain it. I felt the need to save him.
The knight jerks and spasms in my arms as the venom in his body leads him down a different path. Namely not to a hastily dug grave in the forest.
You will regret that.
At first, I think it is Darius who has said it. But I look down to find the knight’s eyes wide open and locked on mine. There is a golden haze glowing from their depths. And something else. A darkness. A hatred. For what I have done to him.
I gulp and edge away, rubbing at my rapidly healing wrist, as he sits up and stretches his neck and flexes his fingers. Testing his strength. Then he slowly rises like a naked phoenix, towering over me, fists clenched and fangs bared.
Prepare to die!
Oh Lord, he is not grateful in the slightest. Biting this knight was a bad idea!
Before Sir Cyril can strike, Darius lunges and tackles him to the floor. Snarling and growling ensues, and I dare notlook over the edge.
Then there is the sound of something being dragged across the floor, and I peek to see Darius’s forearm clamped around the struggling knight’s neck and his hand tight over his mouth.
Do not hurt him!
Darius rolls his eyes at me.
Worry not. I will take care of your mess. One way or another.
